I Can Feel Your Heart Beat from a Thousand Miles
by StoryDiva
Summary: Sam wants to celebrate an important anniversary.  Spoilers through All Hell Breaks Loose.  Wincest written for SPN Schmoop Vs. Angst challenge.


**A/N:** Much love to Steph for the beta. This looks like it might become an ongoing 'verse of stories as this was written for the schmoop vs. angst challenge and the ideas kept coming. So there may be more in time. Feedback is always adored.

* * *

**I Can Feel Your Heart Beat from a Thousand Miles**

"It's never too late to die violently," Dean said with a smirk and the only thing Sam could do was roll his eyes and lift his gun, following his brother into the cemetery.

"Cheery," Sam replied, ignoring the bile in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. As long as Sam didn't think about the finality of it all, the fact that he had failed his big brother, the guy who had saved him over and over, he could get through the night. He owed it to Dean to hold it together.

Easier said than done because Sam still couldn't bring himself to accept the truth. That he was the only one walking out of the cemetery alive that night and it wasn't fair. After everything they had done, all the sacrifices and battles with evil, Dean still owed his life to a demon and it didn't make any sense.

"I want you to stay behind me. Let me take a few of these fuckers down with me and then you get the hell out of dodge."

"Just leave you?"

"Yeah. It'll be easier."

None of this was going to be easy. Not for him and not for Dean, no matter what type of idiotic bravado Dean tried to maintain. Sam shook his head and said, "I'm not leaving you, Dean. I'm staying until the end."

Dean smiled in a way that he didn't do often and it just pissed Sam off. It was day three hundred sixty-five, collection day for the fucking demon, and Dean was acting like he had just won the lottery. It was as though he had no idea what losing him would be like for Sam.

Sam couldn't see his future beyond this moment. He wasn't sure what his brother had felt in that time when he had been the one who was dead, but if it was anything like the looming grief Sam had been feeling for weeks, he understood why Dean had made the sacrifice. It didn't mean that Sam had to like it. It didn't make it any easier to think about a life without his brother in it, without Dean there to rub his back when the nightmares were terrible or to annoy him with a inane joke when the stress of a day's work got to be too much.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts as Dean's hand rested on the nape of Sam's neck and his fingers stroked at the skin.

Sam bit his lips as the stupid tears he swore he wouldn't let the asshole see began to fall. He shook his head and said, "I can't do this."

Dean pulled Sam against his chest and repeated over and over, "It's okay, Sammy. It's okay."

"It's not okay. I didn't…you're going to _die_, Dean, and I can't stop it."

"You did everything you could, Sam. It just wasn't meant to be," Dean replied.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Sam wiped his hand over his face. "I want to hate you."

Dean shrugged. "That's fair."

"Stop being so damn calm, Dean. You're going to die."

"It was worth it," Dean said, pressing a kiss into Sam's hair. His hands cupped Sam's face and he repeated, "It was worth it, Sammy."

* * *

"I'll let you have your way with me if you buy me the biggest bottle of Coke they've got," Dean stated, hopping out of the driver's seat of the Impala and moving around toward the gas pump.

"Please, Mr. Slut, I can have my way with you any time I want," Sam said, watching his brother with a smug smile.

"Bitch." Dean pushed Sam toward the store and said, "Don't forget the Advil. Fucking monster headache."

"Getting thrown down a flight of stairs will do that to you," Sam replied.

"One of these days, I will kill you."

"No, you won't. You love me," Sam said.

"Remember that tonight when your only company is your hand," Dean said.

Sam moved back over to where Dean was leaning against the Impala and pressed against his brother, pinning him to the hood. He kissed him, allowing his teeth to scrape against Dean's lip until their tongues were battling for dominance. Sam grinned as a sigh escaped Dean's lips and Sam pulled back. He said, "I doubt that's gonna happen."

"Asshole."

"So a Coke and Advil. Anything else?"

Dean shrugged out of his jacket and said, "Surprise me, Sammy."

Sam nodded and made his way toward the door of the Quickie Mart, trying to remember the list of items they needed for their first aid kit. He had a feeling from the way Dean was putting all his weight on his one foot that the poltergeist's push had hurt him more than he was letting on.

Sam was pretty sure that if he looked up the definition of stubborn asshole in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Dean smiling smugly.

Sam picked up the Advil and the sodas, dropping them on the counter and smiling at the clerk. He noticed the calendar by the register and it hit him immediately. One year to the day. One year since Dean was given back to him and he still couldn't decide if it was a dream or heaven or something in between that he was never going to understand.

The truth of it was…he didn't really care if it ever made sense. Dean was real and alive and _his_. There was no yellow-eyed demon or hellhounds or stupid deals with the devil hanging over their heads. It was him and his brother and nothing else mattered.

Sam had sworn that he would never take that for granted again.

And Sam knew what he had to do.

* * *

Sam heard his phone ringing, but he couldn't be bothered to move from his spot on the bed. His head started pounding as the gin-induced haze slowly faded, and the ache in his chest returned. He threw a pillow over his head to drown out the phone, but whoever it was kept calling.

Sam knew it was probably Bobby or Ellen, trying to check up on him, attempting to convince him that it was time to either get back to hunting or return to school, so long as he did something.

He could still hear Bobby's words. "He wouldn't want this for you, Sam."

Sam had tasted the bile in his throat and the pain was too much. All he could manage was, "Well, he's not here, is he? He fucking left me."

Sam really didn't want any more lectures from well meaning people who didn't really know him or understand what he had lost when Dean's year was up. They didn't get that Sam had failed the only person who ever really mattered, the only one who never gave up on him, even when it had cost him everything.

Sam reached out for the bottle of gin that was on the table. It was more than half-empty, but maybe it would dull the pain and the annoying ring of the phone.

Sam gulped down a mouthful and cursed as he finally reached onto the floor, patting the carpet amidst the papers and clothes until he found his phone. It wasn't a number he recognized and that pissed him off more.

"What?"

"Sammy?"

Sam dropped the bottle, spilling the remainder of it onto himself and the bed before it rolled to the ground with a crash. It wasn't possible. This was just a dream or a hallucination.

"Who is this?"

"Your fairy godmother." There was a deep breath and then, "Who the fuck do you think it is?"

"Dean..."

"I'm not sure…I woke up naked in a fucking field and I'm freezing and what the fuck is going on?"

"Calm down. Just...where are you?" Sam said. His legs wobbled as he went to stand, but he pushed past it and reached for a pad of paper. He tried to keep his emotions in check, knowing full well that this could be some sort of trick, but the thought that he might see Dean again overtook his every thought. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to have Dean back, no matter the cost. "I'll be right there. Just tell me where you are, man."

"This is fucked up, Sam. Even for us."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

As far as options went, Sam found that a gas station Quickie Mart really didn't have much of a selection of gifts. He looked over the collection of shot glasses with clever logos like "I Heart Missouri" and postcards of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis…nothing that could remotely cover what he wanted to say.

Then again, he wasn't sure that Hallmark made a card to cover the "Glad you Came Back from the Dead for Me" occasion. Sam was going to have to wing it and it wasn't like flowers and cards were Dean's idea of a good time anyway.

The door to the mart opened and Dean hollered, "Are you having a crisis over cookies again, Sam?"

Sam dropped the stuff in his hands and moved out of the aisle, focusing his gaze on Dean. He said, "Give me a few more minutes. I'll be right there."

"What the hell is taking so long?"

"Dean…"

"Fine. Just hurry it up, would ya? My head is killing me and I need a shower," Dean said, turning around and walking back to the Impala. As soon as Sam knew he wouldn't turn around and come back into the store, Sam went back to the aisle and picked up a few things.

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

* * *

Sam spent the entire drive to Dean's supposed location trying to think up every plausible reason for what was happening. He had never heard of anything like this before. Sure, there were cases of random resurrections, but it wasn't months later and not from someone who had sold his soul to a demon. The more Sam thought about it, the more convinced he was that this was a trick.

Dean was gone. Dean wasn't coming back.

But "what if" kept popping into Sam's head and he found himself doing nearly a hundred down the dirt road just to get there and see for himself what was going on.

The minute he pulled up and saw Dean, his heart started racing and the palms of his hands itched and he couldn't think of anything except getting Dean in his arms. He practically flew out of the car and up the stairs of the local store. He wrapped his arms around his brother and inhaled his familiar scent.

"Dean. It's...you're here," Sam said. He cupped Dean's face and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, trying to hold onto the moment, even if it was nothing more than an elaborate dream.

Dean pulled back and said, "What the hell are you doing? We're in public and I'm dressed in a trench coat that I had to steal to cover myself up because _I woke up naked in a field_."

Sam grinned and started fingering the belt of the trench coat. "Really?"

"Sam…"

Sam shut him up with another kiss. It was definitely Dean. Sam had no doubts about it even if he had no idea what was going on. Sam ran his fingers over Dean's face and said, "You're really here."

"I need a drink," Dean replied. He stepped away from Sam, but Sam just brought him right back into his embrace. He wasn't letting Dean out of his grip for a long time.

"God, I've missed you," Sam said.

"How long have I been gone?"

"What do you remember?"

"Not much of anything. It's all a blur," Dean said. He groaned when Sam hugged him tightly again and pushed away, muttering, "Personal space. Look it up."

"Dean…" Sam paused. He wasn't exactly sure how to deal with this. He knew he should be freaking out, but he couldn't get beyond the fact that Dean was there...and he didn't care what he had to do, he planned to keep it that way. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and said, "You were dead, man. Do you remember the demon and the deal you made?"

Dean's brow furrowed and he scratched his head. "You were hurt. I just remember you were hurt and I had to fix it...that's all. But..." Dean stepped away from Sam and sat down on a dilapidated bench. He looked up at Sam and asked, "If I was dead, how the hell did I get here?"

"I don't know and I don't really care."

"Sammy, we don't know what's going on."

"So?"

"So we should probably figure this out before you get too close and I do something that could hurt you."

"If you think I'm leaving you when I just got you back, you're delusional," Sam stated, sitting down next to Dean. Their shoulders brushed against each other and Sam felt a sense of home and security he hadn't felt in months. He placed his hand on Dean's thigh and continued, "I felt like I was going crazy, Dean. I missed you so much and you weren't there..."

"Sam..." Dean's voice was a cracked warning. Sam realized for the first time since seeing him how Dean actually looked. He was pale, there were dark bags under his eyes, and he had lost a lot of his muscle mass. Whatever Dean had been through, it had taken a lot out of him. It wasn't the time for heartfelt conversations that Dean couldn't stomach on a good day. Sam's hand moved up the length of Dean's body and rested at the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there.

"We'll figure it out, but in the meantime, we need to get you checked out."

"I'm fine."

"Can we let a doctor decide that? Please?"

Dean stood up and moved toward the car. He glanced back at Sam and said, "You coming?"

Sam grinned, feeling lighter on his feet than he had in a long time, and said, "Right behind you."

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how he was going to hide the bags. After careful consideration, he had decided to make due with what was available and that meant the fine cuisine of pork rinds and other junk foods. Dean's idea of heaven, at least. He tried to shove them into the back seat without drawing attention to himself, but Dean was watching him from the driver's seat.

Dean looked from Sam to the bags and said, "Hungry?"

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

"Jesus, what's got your panties in a bunch?" Dean questioned, revving the engine of the car. He smiled and said, "Let's get the hell out of this god forsaken state and then we'll stop."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam replied.

Dean glanced at Sam and then back to the bags. He said, "Please tell me you didn't forget my soda."

"I didn't forget your soda," Sam replied, pulling the bottle out of his jacket pocket. He slapped Dean's face lightly and said, "I just like to see that annoyed look on your face."

Dean hit him on the back of the head and pulled out onto the highway, his eyes glancing at Sam every few minutes.

Sam tried to hide the grin on his face, knowing that normally after a long hunt, he tended toward sleepy and grumpy, but the reminder of the date made everything else insignificant in comparison.

"Dude, what the hell is going on with you?" Dean asked.

Sam ducked his head. Obviously, Dean had forgotten about it, or written it off as something that didn't matter, but to Sam it was everything. He thought about telling Dean why he was so cheerful, but decided to stick with his original plan. A nice surprise for Dean. He deserved it, even if he would bitch and moan and pretend he hated every second of it.

"Nothing. They had Swedish fish. It made me happy."

"Are you sure I'm the one who took the spill down the stairs? I think your brain is jostled."

"Shut up and drive."

* * *

"You're hovering, Sam," Dean said, his voice thick with annoyance.

Sam couldn't deny that. He hadn't let Dean more than a hundred feet away from him the past few days. He didn't want to risk turning his back or sleeping, only to find Dean was gone again. Sam wasn't sure he could survive that.

Sam sat down next to him at the small table in their motel room. He said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Sam."

"I know, but…"

"The doctor in the ER told you. Perfect health," Dean replied. He glanced at Sam's phone on the dresser and asked, "Maybe you should call Bobby again?"

"Dude, it's only been an hour. I doubt he's found anything else out. Just relax," Sam said. He patted Dean's arm and then allowed his hand to linger there. As much as he had missed everything he shared with his brother, it was the simplest contact that he had grieved for the most. The smallest ways that Dean had always made his presence known, silently telling Sam that he was there and nothing would hurt them.

"You might want to take some of your own advice," Dean replied. He motioned to the bed and said, "Get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"You've barely slept since you picked me up three days ago. Don't think I didn't notice."

"I'm fine, Dean. I just..." Sam paused. His fingers began drawing small designs along Dean's forearm and he said, "...I'll try not to hover so much."

"Good because I'd hate to have to kill you."

"Like you could take me right now."

"Really pushing it, aren't you?"

Sam leaned over and kissed Dean, his fingers sliding up Dean's arm and tangling in his hair. He inhaled Dean's breath and closed his eyes as he kissed along Dean's jaw line. He whispered, "There are other things we could do instead."

Dean groaned, but pried himself free, moving over to the bed. He said, "We don't know what's going on with me, Sam. It's not smart."

"Dean, you're not going to hurt me."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied. He stood up and moved over to the bed. He sat down next to Dean and said, "No matter how crazy everything else is, I always know that."

"Sammy…"

"I've missed you..._us_...please?" Sam didn't wait for a response before pushing Dean back onto the bed and pinning him underneath him. He grinned and said, "It's you and me. That's all that matters."

* * *

Sam looked over everything on the table one last time, wanting it to be perfect. He knew Dean would probably mock him, but this was an important anniversary.

They were no closer to understanding exactly how Dean came to be in that field the year before, but Sam had learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even Dean had finally accepted his return as something unexplainable, but not necessarily bad after he and Bobby had tapped every one of their resources. It was always the same answer – _never heard of anything like it before, but if he ain't evil, I wouldn't worry 'bout it_ – and after various tests, Bobby decided it was nothing but a miracle, one that the Winchesters deserved.

Sam took the small bag and placed it in the center and lit the candles he had managed to sweet talk the hotel clerk out of. He grinned, kicked off his shoes, and flopped back onto the bed as he heard the water stop running from the shower.

Perfect timing, Sam thought, turning off the light and waiting for his brother to appear.

It seemed to take longer than normal for Dean to emerge in billows of steam, but Sam felt his breath catch at the sight of him in a pair of sweatpants, water droplets still sliding down his chest. It took all of Sam's will power not to reach out and run his tongue along the trail of water.

Dean, for his part, looked utterly confused. His expression was part amusement and befuddlement. He inched closer to the table like he expected it to attack and said, "Is it my birthday and I forgot?"

Sam rested his arms behind his head and said, "Aren't you going to open the gift?"

Dean stared at him and shook his head, as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of Sam. He turned his attention to the bag and opened it. He pulled out the gift and said, "I'm not exactly sure what to say here."

Sam stood up and closed the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around his brother from behind and said, "Do you like it?"

"I'm not sure I understand it. Were you hexed by a witch when I wasn't looking?"

"It's the anniversary of when you came back."

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean replied, though Sam couldn't help but notice that his brother didn't try to storm off, but rather leaned back into Sam's arms.

"I still don't know how it happened, and I know it still freaks you out sometimes, but it's the best thing that's ever happened to us," Sam said, before sucking on a particularly sensitive stretch of skin on Dean's throat as his hands ran up and down Dean's stomach. "And I think it's something worth celebrating."

"You're such a girl."

"I'm serious. I was lost without you. And I swore I wouldn't take us for granted ever again when you were given back."

Dean nodded. Sam could hear him swallowing down air and knew that was about as emotional as Dean would allow himself to get.

Dean held up the gift and said, "And the wrench?"

"It's your anniversary gift."

"Yeah, but it's a wrench," Dean replied. He turned around so that he was facing Sam, his breath tickling Sam's neck. He pressed his hand and the wrench into Sam's chest before replying, "I don't know what kind of kinky shit you got into while I was gone, but I'm not letting you touch me with a wrench."

Sam laughed. He took the wrench from Dean's hands and threw it on the floor. He said, "You're an idiot."

"Still not getting anywhere near me with a fucking wrench, asshole."

"It was a gift."

"iPods are shinier."

"They didn't sell those at the gas station mart, ingrate," Sam replied. He slipped his arms around Dean's waist and pulled him closer. His hands roamed under the elastic of his sweatpants and he grabbed Dean's ass before sliding his hands to the front. As his hand wrapped around Dean's cock, he leaned down and kissed Dean, hoping to convey everything he was feeling with his lips.

Dean grunted and pushed Sam back onto the bed. He went to work on unbuttoning Sam's jeans as Sam removed his shirt and began placing a trail of kisses along Sam's abdomen. Sam licked his lips and pulled his brother's head up to meet his. This kiss was fast and rough and Sam felt the sting of Dean's teeth as they sank into his bottom lip.

Sam pulled away enough to meet his brother's gaze and said, "Best thing that ever happened, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Even a book would've been better than a wrench. That's all I'm saying, Sammy," Dean replied.

"Jerk," Sam muttered, silencing Dean with his lips. No one could ever say that Sam wasn't appreciative of fate's gift.

_Fin_


End file.
